


Dove Grey Bows

by brandyllyn



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:50:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3727771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandyllyn/pseuds/brandyllyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything was going wrong, Chilton was definitely going to fire the person responsible - but did he have time to fix it?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(An extension of my fic 'Bought and Paid For..." but can be read as a standalone.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dove Grey Bows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkDreamsOfHannigram](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDreamsOfHannigram/gifts), [theconsciousdarkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theconsciousdarkness/gifts).



The sunflowers were drooping. Bright yellow petals falling softly against each other in the mid-afternoon light.

Frederick Chilton stared at the flowers, perfectly and carefully arranged next to the doorway. They had been chosen months ago, the orders placed and carefully double-checked by himself just last week. He glanced to the other side, the matching arrangement looked just as sickly as this one.

“What is this?” Behind him, the young woman with the clipboard made a low moaning sound that he ignored. “Is it really not possible to get _fresh_ flowers in the summer? Is this not the season for sunflowers?”

The woman said something but he was already striding through the large double doors, eyes casting about at the trimmings inside.

“Those bows are slate grey, not dove. Do you see my pocket square Ms Green? Does it look _slate grey_ to you? Does it seem to you like my pocket square matches these bows? _Does it?_ ”

Oh god, this was a disaster from start to finish. He could hear the murmur of the crowd outside, waiting to be let into the building for the festivities to commence in - he checked his watch - one hour. There might still be time to fix this. If he sent someone now back into town… no, this little hamlet wasn’t large enough to have the variety of stock needed to match the perfect grey. Someone would have to go all the way back to Baltimore and there absolutely was not time for that.

He tapped his cane against the floorboards.

“Ms Green I am not paying you to be incompetent. This is but the latest in a long string of inept blunders that I have had to deal with while planning for this day. To say that hiring you was a mistake would be doing a disservice to mistakes. You have been a _disaster_ on par with the Edsel and whomever was responsible for the design of the goddamn _Titanic_.”

He heard her heels clicking against the floor quickly, the door slamming behind her and cutting off the sound of her choked sob. Good riddance. He slowly got down on one knee, laying his cane on the ground beside him as he tried to perk up the cheerful yellow sunflowers in the wooden bucket arrangements that lined the aisle. Fucking _wood_. People continued to work around him, trying not to make eye contact as they studiously tied bows and placed flowers. Drooping flowers and bows that were entirely the wrong color. He cursed, one hand on the wooden bench in front of him as he struggled to push himself to his feet.

“May we have the room please?” the sound cut through the tension in the space like a knife.

He stared straight ahead, Elizabeth’s voice ringing in the small space. He waited until he heard the last door shut, the silence in the room almost oppressive. 

“You made Diane cry you know.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to need to apologize to her.”

“She _fucked up_ , these bows are the wrong color, the flower arrangements are in wooden tubs, not glass - half of them are dying, and-“ he cut himself off when he felt the hand on the sleeve of his jacket. He shut his eyes, turning his head away from her.

“Frederick, does all of that really matter so much?”

“Today was supposed to be perfect.”

He heard her laugh, her thumb stroking along the linen. “It _is_ perfect.” When he didn’t respond she pulled at him, “Look at me Frederick.”

He turned toward her, keeping his eyes shut, “I’m not supposed to see you.”

Fingers caressed his cheek, the other hand cupped his neck and he leaned into her touch. “Are you really that superstitious?”

“When you’ve been through as much trauma as I have you take luck very seriously.”

That laugh again, closer this time, then her lips were on his and he felt that familiar tightening in his chest. The way his heart suddenly became erratic and threatened to leap through his ribs.When she pulled away he opened his eyes.

She was a vision in white, the bright ivory lace of her dress nearly blinding in the sunlight that streamed from the high windows. The yellow ribbon tied around her waist matched his tie and he felt himself stand a little taller because of it. Her blonde hair was piled loosely behind her head, small white and yellow flowers tucked into the edges. She was stunningly beautiful and he found himself literally having difficulty breathing as he looked at her.

“We’ll make our own luck Frederick,” she pressed a hand over his heart, “I promise you.”

He kissed her this time, bending her over his arm and pouring all of his emotions into the simple act. She was breathless as well when he broke away from her, her fingers coming up to rest against her lips.

“I’m going to have to fix my makeup aren’t I?”

“You look lovely,” he told her.

She patted his tie into place, smiling at him. “You’re lovelier.”

He snorted, watching her as she turned down the aisle. The slight train of her dress trailed behind her, the lace rising up to cup her ass in a way that made his pants fit just a little tighter. She paused at the large double doors, one hand on the antique brass handle.

“I love you Frederick.”

The half-smile on his face was almost stupid, he knew it must be, “I love you too.”

Her voice drifted back to him as she pulled the door open, “But I told you we should have just eloped…”

Maybe they should have, but he had finally met someone willing to marry him and by god he was going to show the world. As the people who had been hired to help marched by he grabbed a length of the wrong color ribbon, folding it and replacing the dove grey silk in his pocket. That, at least, was one problem solved.

As for the rest… he smiled. No one was going to be looking at him or the flowers anyway.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to this conversation on tumblr - not that I followed it exactly as a prompt but it inspired me something fierce :)   
> http://chiltonnoodlesoup.tumblr.com/post/116131262116/wedding-frederick-would-be-a-mess-hed-obsess


End file.
